
To the, Tunisian dreams, scraper… (part 1)
*** With a hand raised to the sky, a square of light separates the visible from the real world, from what is not visible from the world of appearances. In that tedious moment, I knew, what original sin has long hidden from us, and understood that life was turning its back on me. To you, to us, and to this daring hatred of man... A hatred that is not misanthropic, but so repressive... Shadow on soul, the waves that for a long time made me one of his famous assailants, today are about to drown a spirit, a childhood dream, a last smile to life. O sweet Auroras, if life has provided you with the...